


here we are now entertain us

by anniebibananie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Background Arya/Gendry, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/pseuds/anniebibananie
Summary: About eight months ago, right after Robb went missing, Jon left. Now here he is in the middle of nowhere with Theon at his side as Arya and Sansa are halfway through their national tour. After deciding to come along for the second half, they’re all forced to deal with the shared tragedy of their pasts.





	here we are now entertain us

**Author's Note:**

> guys. a fic which has NO flashbacks OR dream sequences. did i even write this?? 
> 
> i fail the "can u write a fic where robb is alive and happy" challenge again, so like the next one definitely. for sure. i'll make it up to him.

                                                       

* * *

* * *

“Wait,” Sansa said, taking a hand off of the wheel to push her sunglasses further up her nose. The wind whistled through the crack of the window, fluttering her hair over her shoulder, and she raised her voice louder to be heard over that and the straining vocals of whatever cassette Arya had slid in minutes earlier. “The fan theory is that we’re _murdering_ people?”

“It’s pretty fucking dark, actually.” Arya paused her flipping of the magazine pages to light up a cigarette. Sansa wanted to tell her not to stink up the car with the smoke, but she had been trying that since their tour started in Portland and nothing much had changed. In some ways, the cigarette smoke at this point was almost calming.

Sansa could remember Robb laughing on the back porch after mom and dad had gone to bed, passing the cigarette between him and her with the smile of a secret. She could even remember the first and last time he had shared it with Arya, too, the day after her college graduation.

Arya cleared her throat and began to read. “The musical duo Stark, known for their genre-breaking mix of punk and indie music characterized by haunting vocals and ferocious beats—”

“Really going all the way with that wolf imagery,” Sansa said. Arya shushed her.

“—has been the subject of a new theory surrounding the death and disappearance of several Starks. The Stark Curse, a media-created title following Catelyn Stark’s death only a week and a half after her husband and CEO of Stark Industries’ ill-fated demise, was also attached to their older brother Robb after his recent disappearance nine months ago. After the release of their new EP, _Conversations With Ghosts_ , some fans have pointed to lyrics that seem to raise the possibility of dark actions. Known for macabre lyrics, the Stark, or should we say _Slasher,_ sisters—”

Sansa couldn’t help it; she burst into laughter. “The slasher sisters,” she repeated, her laughs breathy and hard to contain, almost manic. Arya joined in as they tossed the words back and forth like a tennis match. “I almost like it.”

Taking a long drag of the cigarette before flicking it out of the open car window, Arya smiled wide. “They’re insinuating that we killed our parents and our older brother because we have ‘dark lyrics’. Can you believe that?”

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” Sansa said. There was a hollow hole in her chest, and she had learned at some point that since she wasn’t going to cry, she might as well laugh. Or try to. Her eyeliner-rimmed eyes stared back at her in the rearview mirror, searching for some sense of feeling at all.

Then Arya shifted, put one of her raggedy converse-clad feet on the dash, and Sansa remembered the immense pool of emotion she felt for her sister. Their amps and instruments that shook in the back, and that too reminded her what being alive felt like. It had taken 24 years and the loss of three of their family members, but they had finally connected over something. And music made Sansa feel _alive_ despite everything. When the two of them were up on that stage… she felt like she could breathe.

* * *

“I wish you guys could travel like a normal band,” Meera said as she unloaded the amp from their van. Her flannel was wrapped around her waist, showing off the dryad tattoo that covered her bicep and part of her forearm. “Why couldn’t we have a big tour bus?”

“Please,” Arya said with a scoff, “who are we? Smashing Pumpkins?”

“Radiohead?” Sansa offered.

Arya laughed at the banter. “Oasis? Wow, there really is a lack of popular women groups in music. This is highly sexist.”

Sansa considered it. “TLC?”

“Don’t go chasing waterfalls. Yeah, I can dig it.” Arya reached forward to grab her drumsticks and slip them in the back of her jeans before helping grab more equipment.

Sansa knew she should help, but she was distracted by the way the sun was falling behind the skyline, glimmering off of the few cars that were already in the parking lot. The show didn’t start for another few hours. They were in a small venue slash bar slash occasional comedy club. These were the places the two of them liked to play their music more than anything, and she suspected as their popularity continued to rise it might become more and more unlikely.

“Come on _Slasher Sister_ ,” Gendry said as he appeared beside her, biceps bulging as he held a box of audio equipment in his arms. He didn’t seem all that concerned with the weight of it. “We’re going to have to get the sound check done.”

“You read the article, too?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” he said, nodding solemnly. “I like to know if the band I’m working for is full of murderers or not. Not that I have a moral obligation, in any way, it’s just best to be prepared.”

“Ha ha,” Sansa said. “Not murderers, though I’d suspect there’s still a very good chance if you look at Arya wrong she will happily maim you.”

“Dope,” Gendry said, nodding his head repeatedly. “Not at all worried about that.”

“Come on,” she said as she clapped his upper arm. “I’m sure it’ll all be great. Someday she’ll realize love is real and be able to accept her overwhelming feelings for you. Until then, let’s go play some music.”

* * *

Arya was doing a drum solo while Sansa kept the major chord structure going, and then Sansa almost slipped over her fingers because Jon Snow was standing in the middle of the audience with Theon at his side. He was looking straight at her. For a moment, she was back in her childhood home watching him shift a hand through his hair while dressed in a wrinkled suit. Then the drum solo came to an end, and she was back in to sing.

There were a few more songs in the set, including their most controversial _Letters to a Semi-Dead Boy_ from their new EP, and they finished their set to cheers and claps. When Arya turned to her for their customary post-show high five, Sansa cleared her throat.

“Jon and Theon are here,” she said over the roar of the bar.

“Jon?” Arya asked, lighting up like a newborn puppy. “I’ve got to find him.” She zoomed off of the stage and spotted him near the bar, launching herself into his arms.

He was shocked but responded quickly. Sansa made her way slowly through the crowd, thanking a few fans who came up to compliment her on the show. Time felt bizarre, like as she walked closer to the bar and to Theon and Jon she was walking further back into the past. She hadn’t seen either of them in the nine months since Robb had disappeared. Most of that time Arya and Sansa had been writing their new music and starting to take it on the road.

Sansa dutifully did not think about Rickon and Bran still back at home. She did not think about Rickon who almost hadn’t said goodbye, claiming he had too much homework, but really Sansa could sense that betrayal in him she felt in herself.

But she was _not_ thinking about that, so she kept moving toward that bar. The three of them were circled talking, Meera and Gendry a few feet further down the bar with Edd, their merch guy, and Jeyne who took care of all their venues. For a national tour, they only really had three carfuls or so of people.

“Sansa,” Theon said, breaking off whatever conversation they were having.

She nodded. “Theon.” She turned to Jon and nodded again. “Hi, Jon. What are you two doing in the literal middle of nowhere?”

He gave a half-smile, and Sansa tried to search his face to see if she could find signs of discomfort. He was as unreadable as always. “Heard some people we knew were doing a show. Thought maybe it was worth seeing.”

Sansa felt a bead of sweat roll down her back. What the fuck was this about. Her gaze went to Theon, who met her eyes but still seemed to shift underneath the look. He was the easiest to pull information from these days with a simple dose of discomfort.

“Thank gods you did,” Arya said with a wide smile. “We’re just about to hit the mid-tour slump. Also we’re murderers, didn’t you hear?”

“Slasher sisters,” Theon said with a clear of his throat. Sansa found it easier to look at him—the tired eyes, the wan skin, the visible scars—then over at Jon. There was something ridiculous about that, too. “Nice touch with the alliteration.”

“We certainly thought so,” Sansa said. Jon looked at her, and Sansa felt the familiar gaze like a branding iron. “Theon, buy me a drink.”

He looked shocked for a brief moment, but then he was offering his arm like they were kids playing knights and damsel in distress again. They went up to the bar, still pretty busy despite a large number of people leaving after the last song.

“You still drinking those god awful mixed drinks?” he asked as he leaned into the bar.

“Nah. Just get me a beer, nothing too dark.”

He raised a brow, didn’t comment. There were a lot of things they didn’t talk about anymore, and yet Sansa didn’t know how to let him go. It was the same with Jon. They were all inexplicably tied now, stars in the same constellations. They could try to disappear from one another, but they were still connected. All stars still making the same shape even if they all shined less these days, and it was a little harder to see.

“What are you doing here?” she asked after a minute of silence. “Really.”

Theon shrugged first, watching the crowd. Sansa trailed her eyes over it too, finding Arya and Jon in the same spot. He looked up, caught her eyes. She couldn’t seem to look away.

“I was at Pyke, whole bunch of bumfuck of nothing to do in the offseason, and Jon showed up. He hung out for a few days, said you guys had a show.” He took a sip of his beer, his free hand tapping against his thighs like he couldn’t shake the anxious energy. “I think we both wanted to see the same thing.”

“And what’s that?” she asked. There was sweat still at the base of her neck, and she could feel her hair stubbornly sticking to the spot.

“Wanted to see if you guys were alright, see if you were anything close to happy.”

“Are _you_?” she asked instead. He shrugged again. “Is he?”

Theon looked at her, a sort of pity in his eyes she wasn’t sure he had ever really looked at her with. “Do _you_ really think he’s happy?”

Sansa didn’t want to touch that one with a ten foot pole.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Arya groaned as she threw the extra pillow from her bed at Sansa, using the remaining one to pull over her head.

Sansa dodged it easily, already on her feet as she began collecting her things.

“You’d think at some point you would figure out how this whole touring thing works,” Sansa said. “We have to get driving.”

“Don’t we get break days soon?” Arya asked. Her voice was muffled into the sheets.

“In, like, a week,” Sansa said. She threw on her denim jacket and eyed the lump in the bed as a feeling of fondness washed over her. “If you can promise that you’ll be ready to go by the time I come back, I’ll go over to the gas station and grab you a coffee. It gives you like fifteen.”

Arya popped her head out of the sheets, not unlike a turtle coming out from its shell. “You’re a godsend, but what about like… twenty minutes?”

“No.” Sansa said, rolling her eyes and reaching for her purse and duffel bag. “More than fifteen, and I let Gendry come in and drag you out.”

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think he could do it softly enough I could just stay asleep? And then—”

Sansa bent down to pick the discarded pillow back up and throw it right at Arya’s face. “Get up, Arya. Don’t be an asshole when I’m being nice.”

She escaped through the door before Arya could rebuttal, and Sansa made her way over to the gas station at the end of the block. The coffee certainly wouldn’t be good, but at this point their tastes had greatly diminished in that realm. Whatever could keep them going, push them further, was enough for her.

“Sansa!”

She would know that voice under the worst circumstances, but she turned over her shoulder anyways to see him, make sure it was real and not just some overplayed memory tugging at her brain. Sure enough, it was him as he jogged to catch up to her.

“Nice shirt,” she said, a small smile at the corner of her lips.

His eyebrows scrunched together as he looked down before meeting her gaze, shrugging his shoulders. It was one of their band t-shirts, faded enough that Sansa knew it was one of the original ones she had handed over to him. One of the first ones she had screen printed herself in the Stark’s garage. The whole idea of it, him holding onto it for this long, felt like there were ants marching through her chest.

“What can I say? I’m a fan,” he said as he shook his head. “Can I walk with you to the gas station?”

“Be my guest,” she said as they began walking again, throwing her hands up a little. She had avoided him last night, unless she’d had Theon or Arya as a barrier. Maybe it wasn’t mature of her or particularly brave, but everything involving him still felt raw. There were no calluses, nothing to protect her from the way he could still make her feel everything.

“Did Arya talk to you about last night?” he asked.

Sansa watched the gravel road in front of her instead of Jon. What had Arya done this time? “I don’t think so?”

“She had said you guys could always use a few more roadies, if me and Theon wanted to tag along.” Jon sighed, and Sansa finally took a moment to look back over to him. His hair was tucked behind his ears, still long and curly and dark.

There had been a time when she could reach forward and jokingly run her hands through it. A time when their physical boundaries had been less pronounced then the walls it felt like they both wore. Now she could barely decide how long she she was allowed to look. She hated that this was what they had come to, that he had left and she hadn’t stopped him, and now they couldn’t figure out how to be themselves.

Jon stopped in front of the gas station door, and she couldn’t get around him without it being awkward. “I guess I just wanted to see if that was okay with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” she flung back immediately. Her heart chugged faster. His face remained impassive, and she just wanted to see if he could tell the challenge in her words. The bit of bite. _Say her name_ , she seemed to dare him with her eyes.

But Jon didn’t seem to see anything. He let the smallest smile out, barely enough to be considered a smile at all, and gave his head a nod. His hands were tucked into the pockets on the front of his jeans. “It’ll be nice, having us all together again.”

“Yeah,” she said, walking through the door he opened for her. “Just like old times.”

What a lie. How many lies did she tell on the daily now? When had she become someone who was so afraid of being laid bare, of being seen honestly? That wasn’t actually a hard question, though.

Her family had done that, leaving her with half of them gone. Theon had done that, breaking her heart by betraying Robb’s trust. Jon had done that, leaving her at all, without a proper explanation.

Right when she had thought they were so close to… _something._ What did it matter now, though? She couldn’t go back and fix the past. None of them could.

* * *

Arya was driving for once, which was sort of out of the blue honestly. She would do it when she had to because Sansa couldn’t keep her eyes open or needed a stretch, but she sort of hated being behind the wheel. Quite truthfully, Sansa would rather have that control anyways.

It was nice, though, to get to stretch out her legs and feel the sun on her face without worrying about the road in front of them.

“Are you mad at me?” Arya asked.

Sansa looked up, moving her body into a position so it was tilted more toward her sister. Arya was working hard on keeping her face unbothered, but Sansa watched the way her lip was gnawed at the corners. Arya may have gotten better at covering her feelings in the last few years, but Sansa had only gotten better at sensing everyone else’s. They were kind of a good team in that way.

“Why would I be mad?” Sansa pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head to hold her hair back. It was as good as any time to get her makeup done for the show, she guessed. She reached back toward her bag and pulled out the container filled with her makeup.

“I invited Theon and Jon.”

“I love Theon and Jon,” Sansa said as she rifled through for an eyeliner.

“I didn’t say you didn’t.” Arya groaned, clearly frustrated with the way Sansa was pushing things to the side. “There’s just _history._ ”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Arya.” Sansa tried to keep her hand steady, finish off the eye as best as she could with the car already jolting her every few seconds. “You invited them, it’s not as if I could turn around and go _Jon Snow, you broke my heart and I don’t want to see you ever again_.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?”

“Of course not.” Sansa sighed, dropping the eyeliner back into the bag and eyeing herself. Now one eye was rimmed in black, and the other was bare. It was such a sharp before and after. The two pieces of her life, so distinct. “He’s part of my life, always will be. I just don’t know what to do with all of him right now.”

“Do you wish I hadn’t invited them?” Arya asked. “I just… I’ve missed them. Less Theon, more Jon.”

Sansa laughed, unsure why that was so funny to her. It wracked her body, until she could hear Arya’s lilting laughs joining in. The two of them laughed for another minute before Sansa was reaching for breath, trying to catch it back.

“Him and I were always going to have to figure it out at some point, right?” Sansa said, unsure of the words but needing to will them into truth. “I loved him. He didn’t love me back the same. It’s fine. He’s family, Theon too in his strange way.”

“So, just to clarify… not mad at me?” Arya asked.

Sansa scoffed. “I’m not mad at you. Not about that at least. You _are_ going like fifteen over the speed limit, though.”

“Oops,” Arya said, sending her a wide smile. “Barely noticed.”

“I know, that's the part that scares me.”

* * *

Their next show was tame. Good, not bad, but nothing all that special. The crowd was a little tired, maybe from the fact that it was a mid-week show, and they did an encore to light cheers before the crowds began funneling out.

“I don’t even want to think about taking any of that down,” Meera said, passing a cigarette between her hands as she stared at all the stage equipment.

Sansa could tell she was contemplating whether to go outside and smoke. She was constantly oscillating between smoking and not, drinking and not, unsure what she did and didn’t feel like putting in her body.

“Don’t yet,” Sansa said. “You can get me a soda instead.”

“Ooo bold choice. No alcohol tonight?” she said as she signalled out for the barhand.

“I think it would just make me exhausted.”

Sansa swivelled in her chair, just enough to see Arya sitting at the side of the stage talking to Gendry. He was leaning against one of the speakers, a wide smile across his face, and Sansa couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of the two of them.

“You’re lucky you weren’t in a car with him today,” Meera said behind her. “He’s in one of his ‘Arya Stark hangs the moon and can never love me back’ phases. Which mostly involves weird bouts of silence, a teensy bit of brooding, and random rants about how incredible she is. Jeyne looked about ten seconds from throwing herself out the van when she wasn’t in moments of thinking it was oddly romantic.”

“I wish they could just get past it all,” Sansa said.

Meera hummed behind her.

“They’ll get there.”

“They’re just idiots,” Meera said. “But not even them can be that stupid to ignore their obvious feelings forever. I’m gonna go smoke. You’ll be good?”

“Yeah,” she said, watching Gendry step forward and Arya jokingly kick out at him in response, “I’ll be fine.”

She heard Meera vacate her spot though she didn’t turn to see it. Then her vision was blocked by Jon Snow, forever getting in her way, really.

“Can I sit?” he asked, motioning toward the chair. She nodded, and he moved to do just that. “Theon was manning merch before cleaning it up, and some girl came over who was just… a real piece of work.”

“So, you abandoned Theon?” Sansa asked as she turned back to the bar, reaching out and taking a sip of her soda.

He shrugged, almost a small smirk on his lips. “Better him than me.”

Sansa laughed, the feeling floating through her chest. When she stopped she saw Jon watching her with a small smile.

“Are Arya and Gendry dating?” Jon asked. He reached out to tap the bar, and the bartender nodded they would be over in a minute.

“Dating? No. Pining for one another? Probably. Depends on the day.”

Jon nodded, seeming to take that for fact. This, the simple back and forth, was what Sansa missed about Jon most days. That and the way having him near had always felt more like being herself. They had known each other through so much, had been there for one another, that it seemed like there was nothing that could break them apart. It was simple with them, until it wasn’t that was.

“I never heard about Daenerys’s tour,” Sansa said, because apparently she was a masochist of the highest order. Jon was a foot away from her, but she was certain she could feel the way he clenched his whole body. “Is it as fun being a roadie for her as it is us? I’m sure she gets a few more perks.”

Jon cleared his throat. “Not the sense of family you get here.”

 _Do you love her,_ she wanted to ask. She didn’t, but she did look at Jon. He looked sort of pained. _Good,_ she thought. _If I have to hurt I’m glad he does, too._ But even that felt too cruel for her. He looked up, caught her looking, and for a moment it was that familiar feeling of the two of them connected by gravity. Their like-minded insides begging to be brought together, held by that comfortable current.

“I’m glad I’m back. Here, with you,” he said after a beat of silence.

Sansa closed her eyes and looked into the darkness of her lids. What if when she opened her eyes again she was back to before he left? What if she could go even further before Robb disappeared? Before Theon fucked off when they needed him the most?

She opened them, and there was just Jon.

Meera came back, smelling briefly of smoke and toting a wide smile. “Oy, you’re in my seat, Snow.”

Jon tapped the bar, backed up, yielded the floor.

Sansa watched him disappear into the people of the crowd.

* * *

 

The next two shows went fine. Gendry and Jon were quickly becoming best friends, which Arya thought was hilarious and didn’t surprise Sansa much at all. Theon was quiet, but he was getting along well enough. He took a lot of time to himself, but Sansa was happy he did it if he needed it. It wasn’t _normal_ having them there, but she didn’t think it would ever really feel normal again anyways.

It was good, all things considered. She could find joy in having them around.

The Saturday that followed, though, was undoubtedly a bad day. She woke from a slow, honey sort of dream. The one that felt sort of like molasses, sticking itself inside of Sansa so sickly sweet it hurt to pull it out. She had been back at Winterfell, and when she walked down the stairs her father had been making pancakes and her mother had been reading the newspaper. Robb was sipping a coffee, Bran was working with his legos, and Sansa felt like she was truly at home.

The rest of the day followed pretty poorly, tinged in the color of that feeling of loss of a simpler time. The mood would have left her unbearable with just Arya, so she forced Gendry and Jon into the car with her (it hadn’t taken much convincing), and laid down in the last row of the van. Jeyne and Theon were having some conversation about 80’s hair bands that she wouldn’t have been able to keep up with even if she had wanted to try. Their voices were sort of lulling, though, and so it helped keep her calm.

At some point she must have actually fallen asleep because she woke up to the sounds of equipment being pulled out the back of the van. The idea of getting up on stage and singing all those songs her and Arya had written made her feel like crying. She didn’t want to do her makeup or stand and speak to the crowd.

She just sort of wanted to be nothing for at least a day.

It took another twenty minutes before anyone bothered her, and she could hear Jeyne and Arya talking outside of the car in soft voices. Then the door slid open, and Arya was crawling through the opening to the backseat.

“Sans,” she said, grunting a little because though Arya was tiny there wasn’t actually much space for her on the ground between the rows. “Do you want me to do sound check? You could lay down for a bit more or whatever.”

“I just–” Sansa wasn’t sure what was going to come out of her mouth next, but it never did because a sob escaped instead. Her chest heaved, and she covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. It didn’t make sense where this was all coming from.

It was hard to describe, though, the way her body ached for a life that had been gone from them for a long time.

“Oh no,” Arya said, crawling closer. “Sansa.” She reached out a hand and squeezed her arm. “I don’t know…”

“Go do sound check,” she breathed out between softening cries. “I promise I’ll be in shortly. I just need a minute.”

“Okay, do you wanna…” Arya bit her lip, clearly caught in the in-between. “I’ll go do that.” She turned around and paused, reaching out a hand to squeeze Sansa’s thigh for a moment. “Tour is hard.” Then she was gone.

Sansa took a deep breath as she tried to get herself back together. There were more tears she couldn’t seem to stop, but then she sat up and tried to wipe them away. They all probably knew she was having a breakdown anyways, it wasn’t as if having a fresh face would trick any of them.

Most of everyone was too busy to notice her, or they were too polite to look over. Her head was raging, and she walked further into the venue to see Jon first as he ran some cords toward the sound system. She moved toward him, and he looked up as she was a few feet away.

“My head,” she said as if that made any sense, pointing a finger to help.

He took a step toward her, brow furrowed, and reached out a hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear. It took every inch of will power inside of her to not lean directly into that touch, to not fall into him. The thing she had failed to properly label when he had come back, a feeling that had been itching at her, is that in a lot of ways Jon Snow felt like a home.

Not exactly the one she used to have, but something that had grown to be just as comforting after some time. One that no longer how long it had been she could slip back into just as easily. She felt that now—the pull to rest herself within his warmth.

“I’ll get you some aspirin,” he said, the touch gone. “Why don’t you go rest in the back.”

She was too vulnerable. This wasn’t fair. He looked like he didn’t want to look away until he knew she was okay, and if he asked she might just reveal just about anything in that moment. Gods, what she wouldn’t do for a hug.

 _I missed you._ It sat on her tongue, she went as far as to open her mouth, but then she shut the words inside and nodded instead. She couldn’t do it. The idea of releasing that thought into the world made her feel more than raw, more than bare. It almost felt like losing, though she certainly didn’t know who won in that scenario.

“Okay,” she agreed. She wondered if she would ever be able to not need him. She wondered if she could ever not want to.

* * *

“You did good,” Theon said as he brought her a second beer. “I know it was a weird day, but that was a good show.”

“Thanks,” she said, gladly finishing her first beer to start her second.

It was a weekend night, so there were more people mingling about, and Sansa had found herself a nice corner table to hide away in. Theon slid into the seat beside her, the two of them watching the crowds of people pulsing in front of them.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He seemed nervous to ask it.

“I had this dream last night,” she said. She was surprised by how honest she was being, but there there had been something about having seen Theon as emotionally wrecked as she had been after Robb’s disappearance that had made it easy for her since. “It was hard to wake up from. Devastating.”

“I’ve been there,” he said.

The two sat for a few minutes, not saying anything. The manufactured music filled the space up, and there were so many people dancing and laughing. Sansa felt like such a bummer over here in the corner, but knowing she wasn’t the only person dwelling on the past made it easier. Glancing at his profile, Theon looked so different than the person she had known in his youth. He was still here, though, the same way she was. The same way Arya and Jon were.

“What’s worse?” Sansa asked, sliding the bottle back and forth between her palms. The condensation left her hands slick. “If he’s actually dead or if he left and didn’t even need to say goodbye?”

Surprisingly, Theon did not seemed surprised in the least to start this conversation. “You know Robb. He would’ve said goodbye.”

“Yeah, well I thought I knew you, too,” she said before wincing, the thoughts fresh on her mind.

Theon paused with the bottle halfway to his own mouth before meeting the gap and downing the rest of its contents. “You’re right,” he said. “Hurts, but you’re right. Your brother, though? Before I was an actual piece of shit to him and ruined the only good things in my life, was someone who loved you all more than anything. He would have started wars to protect you. If Robb was capable of leaving you all and not saying goodbye, then I don’t know shit. I don’t know anything.”

In. Out. Sansa took a deep breath and blinked to clear out the blur in her vision. “I think so, too,” she said. It didn’t feel like it covered it all, all the things she felt, but she wasn’t sure there was a way to convey all of that.

Theon ran a hand through the top of his hair. From here, Sansa could see the scar that ran from the back of his ear below the collar of his shirt.

“Do you think you and I will ever recover?” he asked. “Go back to the way things used to be?”

Sansa shook her head. For so long, there had been anger that seemed to blind everything when it came to Theon. Now it was dull. She just felt sad—sad for the life she would never return to, sad for how it had all fell apart.

“No,” she said. He deflated, and she reached out blindly for his hand. It took a second, but then she reached his wrist and followed it until their hands were clasped together. “Something different, though. _Something.”_

His shoulder leaned into hers. It was delicate, asking for comfort without being able to actually _ask_ for it. Then it was gone.

“I’m gonna…” he trailed off, pointing behind him before he set his jaw. His eyes couldn’t meet hers. “I’m not him, never will be. But next time you miss him or think of something you would have told _him…_ I’m here, if you want it.”

Sansa rose to her feet and reached up, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

He nodded again, so unsure of how to find his words. Then he disappeared, but there was something about his retreating back that made her feel okay. That didn’t make her version of the world upend again.

* * *

Arya was unusually chipper for it being early in the morning, but Sansa was fairly sure it had to do with the fact that this was their last show before having almost a week off. Then just a handful more of shows to go before their tour was done, and it would be time to go back and work on finishing their new album.

“I’m gonna ride with Gendry today,” Arya said. She was smiling wide as she threw Sansa the car keys. “I just feel like annoying him some.”

“I can hear you!” he called from the side of the van, and she was running over as the two of them dissolved into a fake fight. They really were perfect for each other.

“You want the company?” Jon asked as he emerged from the motel room. He paused briefly to look over at Arya and Gendry, who now had Arya thrown over his shoulder as he spun her around and the two dissolved into laughter, before turning back to Sansa. “I can even drive first.”

“Sure,” she said, handing him the keys.

This was a good idea, she promised herself. They could talk, figure some things out. And even if they didn’t, Jon knew how to be silent and enjoy the quiet they made between them. It had been one of Sansa’s favorite things about him.

As he started up the car, the music blared to life. Both of them jolted back before Sansa could reach forward and turn it down.

“That was an Arya pick,” Sansa explained.

They had only been driving for a minute, and Jon had already managed to look completely comfortable behind the wheel. His left hand was steering while his right arm was resting on the armrest, his eyes trained forward. There were so many memories bubbling to the surface Sansa held dear of him driving with her in the passenger seat.

“Makes sense,” he said. “Do you still have the whole glove department filled with tapes?”

She scoffed. “Obviously. What sort of music can I curate for your taste today?”

He rolled his eyes. “Surprise me.”

“You know, I’ve ever modernized, and now I have some of those compact discs the youths are so fond of.”

“That’s so bold of you. Only about a decade behind everyone else.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that, old man.”

Jon didn’t seem offended by the banter, if anything he seemed to be enjoying it. “Trust me, I do. Now, please change this off of Arya’s pick because it’s too early for this.”

“Russian roulette it is,” she said as she reached a hand into the glove department and chose the cassette at random. She had no idea what was on it, but she put it in just the same.

The instant the music rushed through the speakers both of them groaned, the sound quickly peeling off into laughter.

“You have to change it,” Jon said as he already reached forward to eject.

“We can’t!” she declared, grasping his hand and pausing his action. His eyes caught on the touch and looked back up at her. She cleared her throat. Her hand let go of him. “Smells Like Teen Spirit is part of our personal history, Jon Snow.”

“It wasn’t even a good road trip,” Jon argued. “We sat in traffic twice as long as we drove, and we only had that single cassette. I can’t believe we listened to Nirvana _that long_.”

“I spent hours crafting that mixtape to make sure it was the perfect length,” she argued. “You can’t imagine the work that went in.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can. It was great the first… maybe three times? Then we were both just too stubborn to admit we’d rather listen to nothing at all.”

Sansa laughed, thinking over the memory. It was one of those stories that only grew in your head over the years, seeming to pick up more humorous details and nostalgia. It had been horrible in a lot of ways, but in that sort of way that only became funnier, that only made you love it more.

“We had some good moments, though. You and me,” she said.

Jon gave her a brief look before turning his eyes back to the road, and Sansa couldn’t tell what his face was trying to say. He didn’t look upset, but there was something deeper she couldn’t read. As good as Sansa got at reading people, Jon Snow continued to remain difficult.

“Of course we did,” he said. “Do you remember us stopping at that Hawaiian restaurant? Robb couldn’t understand why it had taken us so long to get there, but it was because that restaurant was so _slow._ The food was great, though, and they were right by the water.”

Reaching over, Sansa rolled her window open to let some fresh air in. It helped her breath a little better, and she laughed now thinking about the whole thing.

“Robb had been ready to take us to a college party, and we were so stuffed all we wanted to do was lay around,” Jon continued.

“It ended up being a fun night, though,” Sansa said. “Robb could make any situation fun.”

“He was always amazing at getting anyone out of their shell,” Jon said before screwing his mouth tight. “Is.”

Sansa eyed his profile—the strong lines, the familiar lines. She hadn’t realized before she had begun to refer to Robb in the past tense some of the time. It wasn’t that she was saying she thought he was dead, necessarily, it was more that he was gone and she was fairly certain he wouldn’t be back. It was too hard to pretend anything different anymore.

“You think he’s still alive?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I want him to be.”

The idea that Jon understood how much it hurt to have Robb gone, though they didn’t know why, made it harder to forgive him for leaving her. Had she given him the choice, though? She had let him leave, and that was part of what made it the hardest to accept. She wasn’t the only victim here, but it still hurt just the same. Maybe she hadn’t fought hard enough for him to stay, but _she_ never would have left in the first place.

“Is that part of why you left?” she asked, feeling a boldness she hadn’t expected. “Did you think he would find you? Or you would find him?”

Jon tensed. It sort of made Sansa angry that he had, because _he_ was the one who made this situation. Did he get a right to be uncomfortable about it?

“Honestly?” he asked. “I thought maybe I would be able to forget all the pain. I thought maybe I could be better.”

That, Sansa could understand. The desire to be able to fix it. If only they were stronger, if they had made different choices, if, if, _if._ She was exhausted of what if’s and the almosts that plagued them now. She wanted to escape. Start living in the present. Try to let the past go.

* * *

“You guys are such a great audience,” Sansa said into the microphone. The audience cheered back. “Would you guys let us do a cover for you?” They cheered again.

Her eyes searched the crowd as she could hear Arya hitting the drums lightly, keeping her arms loose. “This one is for a friend of ours who is here tonight, but it’s also for all of you. Think of it as a weird stand in for all those horrifically nostalgic memories of yours, okay? Or just rock out. Also allowed.”

Arya came in on the drums ferociously, and Sansa hit the guitar, and predictably as Sansa began the first words to _Smells Like Teen Spirit_ a little slower and a little darker than the original (they were the Slasher Sisters, after all, had to maintain their image), her eyes locked on Jon Snow’s in the crowd. He was near the back, so it wasn’t like she could really be sure, but she swore his eyes shown. His lips tilted in an uncharacteristic bold smile.

She smiled around the words, leaning into the music. That was what they had always used music for, anyways, to release their feelings. To try to tell the truth.

* * *

They were behind the motel around a big bonfire, celebrating their few days off by spending it how they spent a lot of their nights—getting drunk, arguing about music, enjoying each other’s presence. Sansa was still feeling fairly dehydrated from being up stage, so she was starting slow with a big bottle of water.

Arya was beside her, listening to several conversations around them but not truly invested in any. She turned to Sansa instead, smiling as she hit their shoulders together. “Tonight rocked,” she said. “Totally kickass.”

“Yeah,” Sansa agreed. “Our energy was good.”

“You know, I don’t care if people think we’re murderers.” Arya bent her beer forward until it tapped against Sansa’s water like a cheers. “We’re murderers who put on a hell of a show.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, leaning in. “Hey, you’ve been eyeing Gendry a lot tonight.”

“Don’t,” Arya warned.

“What?”

Arya narrowed her eyes at Sansa. “Everyone is always on that shit. Also, he shaved off his facial hair, and it was getting god awful. He looks hot, and I frankly can’t be blamed.”

Sansa chuckled. “How many drinks have you had already?”

“Hey, I can tackle brief moments of emotional honesty without alcohol,” Arya said. “Also, all I said was he’s hot. That is objectively true.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sansa said, watching him across the fire with Meera. “You ever going to do something about it?”

Arya shrugged. “I’ll get there.” The fire crackled loudly in front of them, and somewhere in the distance someone had brought out a boombox to start playing music. “How are Jon things?”

Sansa searched for him and found him and Theon somewhere further back. His hair was pulled back, and he was wearing a flannel that gave him a sort of rugged look that was hitting Sansa sideways.

“Better,” she said. “Getting there.”

* * *

While there were some members of the crew who chose to fly home during their off-time, most of them stayed. It was a young crew, and in a lot of ways these were all people who had made this a family of their own. Sansa liked how they had all come together. It felt less like they were hired to be here, that Arya and Sansa had chosen them when they decided tour was in the books, and more like they had all chose each other.

Which was stupid and sentimental, but Sansa was fine with that. You had to hold onto the little things.

A thought nagged at the back of her head, though, that maybe _she_ should have gone home to check in on Rickon and Bran. Bran was an adult, she reminded herself, and Rickon would mostly be at school. It was less than a month now until the end of this tour, and Sansa would be back home to try to make things better. Maybe those were just stupid platitudes, but she hoped they were true.

“Sansa,” Meera said, “it’s your turn.”

She looked up and came back to present before stepping forward to grab her bowling ball and set up. Her throw was pretty off, only hitting two side pins, and she recovered slightly on her second roll but it wasn’t much better.

“I know, I suck,” Sansa said as she turned around to see Arya laughing at her.

Meera jumped up to her feet and gave her a pat on the back as she passed for her turn.

“I’m going to go outside for a sec,” Sansa said. “If I’m not back in time you’re allowed to bowl for me.”

“That would be unfair benefit to you,” Arya said.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Fine. _Theon_ can bowl for me then.”

He flipped her off, and she laughed as she went outside.

It was a downcast day, so the sun was barely peeking out and there was a chilly breeze that hit Sansa. She was grateful for her jacket to keep her arms covered, pulling it tighter to her chest as she leaned back against the building. After a breath she walked over to the phone booth and slipped in her quarters.

Bran picked up after three rings. “Hello?”

“Hey Bran. It’s Sansa. I wanted to check in.”

“Oh, hey. You guys on break?” His voice sounded a bit tired, and Sansa missed when he had been filled to the brim with passion.

“Yeah. We’re almost done really. Less than a month, now.”

“Sure, that’ll be nice,” Bran said. He sighed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“I know.” She leaned into the side of the booth, bringing the phone closer to her face and closing her eyes. She tried to imagine what home looked like right now. “How have you been?”

“Work is fine. We’re working on this new account, a whole new word processing system. It should be cool.” He cleared his throat. “I know you’re worrying, but things are okay here I swear.”

“Rickon is fine?” she asked. She worked her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to keep her calm.

“He got in trouble right after you left for skipping a day,” he said, “ _but_ he’s been good since. I think it’s just hard for him. He got far less stability than the rest of us. He feels like he missed out, not that he would say that aloud.”

“Maybe we should have never left…” Sansa’s throat felt choked. It was hard to swallow.

“We’re not his parents. We’re never going to be,” Bran said. “It’s okay to do stuff for you and Arya. He knows you love him, and he’ll be excited to have you all back.”

“When did you get so wise,” she said. His words didn’t really placate her, but it was good to know that one of them didn’t resent her at least. She shouldn’t have to feel like all this weight was on her, but she didn’t know how to release any of it. If she was to let go for even a second, everything might fall apart all over again. It was easier to become the weight, feel it sinking into her frame.

“I’m not wise, it’s just common sense.” Bran cleared his throat. “Arya said Jon and Theon joined you guys?”

Sansa breathed in deep. “Yeah.” A car passed loudly on the street, and she watched it zoom past and the road grow back into silence.

“You should tell them to come home, too. I’m sure it would do Rickon a lot of good. If they could stay long enough for his eighteenth, that would be even better.”

The way Bran said it, so obviously that they shared a home, made Sansa skip a breathe. “I will. Tell Rickon I called, okay? And that I love him?”

“Always. Rock on, Slasher Sister.”

“Oh my god, fuck right off.”

The two laughed until they hung up, and it felt good.

* * *

Jon found her sitting in a chair outside her motel room, nursing a beer and watching the sun set over the parking lot. Sansa had been waiting for Arya to come back, but at some point she had become fairly sure she was not going to. Which was fine, she could use some alone time, anyways.

She hadn’t eaten much today, and she hadn’t moved from the chair for a while, so it was hard for Sansa to realize how drunk she had been growing over the last two hours. The blur of alcohol made her feelings stronger, and the memories louder. It was beautiful and horrifying.

“You didn’t want to go to dinner with Jeyne and them?” he asked, pulling up a chair beside her.

She reached toward the ground and pulled a beer from her pack, passing it to him. He cracked open the top and took a long sip.

“Ah, room temperature beer. A delicacy.”

She laughed. “No, I didn’t even realize that was what they were doing. It’s fine, better for me not to.”

He nodded, not pushing. Sansa leaned back into the chair, legs spread out in front of her. She wished she could have found Robb’s sweatshirt in her bag, the one from some sport or other she couldn’t remember because it didn’t matter, all that mattered was it was large and slipped past her wrists and reminded her of him.

“Why better?” he asked after a beat.

She looked up. Her chest clenched, and she let out a low, long breath.

“Wanna know a secret?” she slurred. She must have been slurring before, but it became more obvious now with the intimacy of what was to come next. The words were muddled, and Jon winced at the sharpness hiding underneath. Sansa wished desperately she could go back to being soft, that she could stop hurting the people around her that were left, but she didn’t know how. It was all just a bandaid on a bullet wound. “Conversations with a Semi-Dead Boy isn’t about Robb.”

Jon seemed genuinely shocked. “It isn’t?”

Sansa took another swig and shook her head so ferociously her hair whipped forward and back over her shoulder. “It was about Bran. He didn’t know how to cope, half the time talking to him these days is like talking to, I don’t know, nothing. I can’t… I should be there.”

“Sansa…”

“Not even you know what to say, because you know it’s true, too,” she said. “We’re out on this wild tour and Bran and Rickon are home without us. No wonder Rickon is acting out constantly when the only sibling who stayed is so lost in their own shit they can’t even be present, I mean…”

That wasn't fair, she knew that, but her heart couldn’t seem to get on the memo. She had a productive phone call this afternoon, so why was she still letting the weight drown her? Rickon and Bran were going to be fine, she _knew_ it, and yet she couldn’t hold onto it. She couldn’t escape the guilt.

How was her leaving them any different than Jon leaving Sansa? Than when Theon left Robb?

“Sansa,” he said again. His hands reached out to cup her cheeks, and the thoughts stopped. All there was were his hands, his too warm hands, pulsing warmth into her face and holding her steady.

The alcohol, the emotions, they made her weak. She leaned into the touch, and he didn’t pull back. His thumb rubbed over her cheek. They had never kissed, she thought, but the intimacy they had shared seemed so beyond that.

“I don’t know how to fix it all,” she said honestly as she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

He shook his head, letting his hands drop. She reached out and held onto his wrist, and he held her hand back.

“It’s never been yours to fix,” Jon said. As simple as that.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to ask how to fix _them_ , but maybe they were already doing that. Fixing the foundation they broke brick by brick. It would be different, but maybe it could be just as good.

“We should go get you some dinner,” he said. “There’s a pizza place just a block down. Come on.”

“Okay,” she said, though she stumbled a little when she got back to her feet. He reached out and held her arm steady. She tried to trust him.

* * *

“So, Gendry and I just made out,” Arya said three days later as she came into the bedroom.

Sansa looked up from the book she was reading. Arya looked a little tired, but she was also glowing. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, her eyes were bright, and as she reached up to touch her lips she smiled.

“Holy shit,” Sansa said. “I need to know everything.”

“I can’t do…” Arya trailed off, motioning her arm around to Sansa, “ _girl_ talk or whatever.”

“Okay, speed round. I can make that work.” Sansa sat up and crossed her legs, throwing her book to the side. “It was good?”

“Great,” she said with a nod as she fell onto her own bed.

“And you like him?”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

“Does he know that?”

“I hope so. I explicitly said _I like you_ this time, so he should.”

“You guys going to do it again?”

Arya smiled, almost seemed embarrassed by how wide it spread. “I sure as hell hope so.”

“Good.”

She looked over to her sister, the two sharing a smile. “He’s a good one,” Arya said. Sansa couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Sansa reached into the van and grabbed a collection of cords, leaving the heavier stuff to the dudes that were hired to do that. She wasn’t Arya, who liked to fight anyone who said she couldn’t lift something. She was happy to let them do that work.

The show was a good turn out, and Arya and Sansa were energized after all the time off. They were vibing well, and by the time they played their last song Sansa felt so unbelievably alive. This was what it had always been about. That feeling of capturing onto the truth and sharing it.

Arya and Sansa made the rounds through the crowd as people talked to them about their music. Usually Sansa could only do it for a little while before she got exhausted and desperately needed a drink or to disappear, but tonight she was having fun. She caught eye of Arya at the bar and excused herself from the conversation, thanking them for coming out again as she went to get herself a celebratory drink.

Arya already had one waiting for her, which she passed off before informing Sansa she was going to go find her boyfriend.

“Boyfriend?” Sansa asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Who knew,” Arya said with a shrug, “I can do normal.”

Sansa reached forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to Arya’s cheek, who pushed her away with happy aggravation. Then she disappeared into the crowd, and Sansa was left looking around.

“Good show,” Theon said as he appeared beside her. “I’m going to man the merch a bit longer since people are still clamoring for it. You need anything?”

“Have you seen Jon?” she asked.

He gave her an odd smile. “Yeah, he said he was going to go sit by the water for a bit.”

“Thanks,” she said, patting his shoulder as she made her way out of the bar.

It was a sweet spot, really, to be so close to the ocean. They would get to be a few more times before the tour was over, now that they were working their way up the East coast. The cement gave way to sand, and she padded down the beach until she saw him sitting in the distance. He had moved away from the bar entirely, now they were right behind the motel.

It had been a good show, a good night. Sansa couldn’t understand why he was over here sulking.

“Jon Snow,” she said with a soft smile, coming next to him. “Why exactly are you off here and not with everyone else?”

He looked surprised to see her, as if her presence had pulled him back to the surface when he was lost in the depths. There were still the remnants of whatever memory he had been lost to stuck to his face, and Sansa wondered where he had been.

“I was just…” he trailed off and ran a hand over his hair. It was free tonight, blowing in the light breeze. “Sometimes, Sansa, I look at you and all I can do is think about the pain I caused you.”

“Stop,” she said, suddenly furious. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I—”

“You’re sorry?” she said, disbelieving. In her heart, she knew he was, but they’d been together for weeks now and he had yet to say it. There had been nothing but opportunities.

“Don’t, Sansa. You have to know I am.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said.

“Well, let’s talk about it, then,” Jon said, his voice direct but his eyes anything but. Jon could be confident in his own way, but the way he shifted his gaze reminded Sansa all the ways he had been uncomfortable with the pressure of the spotlight. He had never quite known how to wear that presence on his shoulders. “I _am_ sorry. I never should have went on tour with her, and I _never_ should have—”

“You left me!” she screamed, shocking herself with the ferocity of it pummeling out of her chest.

Her hair tumbled wildly out of her braid, sticking to the pulsing veins of her neck. This was everything against what she wanted to be—controlled, compact, manageable. She felt wild beyond belief. She felt like her tightly clasped fist had failed her and somehow everything was breaking through the cracks. She breathed in the sea air and breathed the salt back out. “You left,” she repeated calmly.

Had she even been bothering to look at him up to this point? Sansa’s eyes were half shut and oddly out of focus. With all her courage, she set them on his face.

His eyes were clear, focused, on her. “I didn’t love her, you know,” he said. “I don’t.”

Sansa groaned. “That just makes it worse.”

“Never anywhere close to the way I love you.”

“Still worse,” she cried, pushing her hand against her chest. “I don’t want it to hurt anymore, Jon. I don’t get why you did it.”

“I thought it would make things better, to not have me around,” he said, and he moved to scrunch down in front of her. He held out a hand and grabbed onto hers, holding tightly. He brought it to his own chest, then dipped down and kissed it. “I was wrong, so wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Love me?” she finally asked. It was posed as a question, but she wasn’t quite sure exactly what she was trying to ask. If she loved her then? If he loved her still? If he could dare to love her again?

He nodded, and it felt like the answer to any of them.

“I couldn’t ever figure out how to stop.”

Before she could even think about it she was reaching out and hugging him so tightly to her body she was unsure if she was going to be able to breathe. She just needed to be closer, to hold him and know he wasn’t going anywhere. He stood up, and she came with. His arms wrapped tightly around her back, and she jumped up to wrap her legs around him.

She couldn’t be apart, needed him to understand he had always been everything to her. “I love you,” she whispered into the skin of his clavicle. He held her as tight as he could manage back, walking them toward the motel room. Once they were beyond the doorway, the two toppled into the bed still intertwined.

He pulled back just enough to place a sound kiss on her forehead, and she wanted to stop crying really she did, but she couldn’t. It was like all this feeling she had pushed down for so long, compacting on top of the pain before it until it was thin layers of all her forgotten trauma, was finally pouring out of her and she didn’t know how to let it stop.

“If you’re going to leave again,” she said between cries, “don’t make promises you can’t keep. I can’t handle you breaking my heart again.”

Jon clasped her face and met her eyes. His face was dead serious, and there were tears at the corner of his own eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. It was stupid. All I did was miss you the whole time. Where you go, I go.”

He pet her hair back as she breathed into his chest, until their breathing eased back into calm, until they fell asleep.

* * *

Sansa woke up a few hours later, the sky still dark through the one window. She realized they must have been in Jon’s room, but she wasn’t sure where Theon had gone. She wondered if he had opened the door and saw the two of them and turned right back around.

She scooted closer, looking at Jon in sleep. His face was peaceful. She took a finger and trailed his jaw, feeling the light growth of hair there. Even after the pain he had caused her, it was undeniable that Jon Snow was _good._ He might not always go about it the right way, but there was a light in him that Sansa couldn’t ignore.

Something clicked inside of her, like she was coming back together.

“Jon,” she whispered, creeping closer and kissing his cheek. “Jon,” she repeated, kissing his other cheek.

He let out a soft sound, shuffling a little. “Sans?” he asked, opening an eye.

She dipped forward and kissed his lips, and that was more than enough to wake him up. He pushed into her, bringing her body as close to his as he could, and kissed her back. They rolled over, Jon’s leg slotting between her legs and his arms keeping himself hovered above her.

“I woke up and thought you were a dream for a second,” he said as he pulled back for a breath.

Sansa reached up and ran her hands through his hair. It had been a long time since she felt as if she had the privilege.

“A dream, but a real one,” she said.

He dipped forward and kissed her earlobe, the arch of her neck, her collarbone. He came back to her lips, and she grabbed hungrily onto his face.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said between kisses. “I’d do anything.”

She paused, pulling his face back and looking into his eyes. She took a deep breath. “You don’t have to. I think we should stop holding onto the past. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m probably still going to try to show you how much you can trust me, though, anyways.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Probably wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

She kissed him, because she could, because she wanted to, because she didn’t think she would ever be able to stop wanting to. It was okay, though, because this time she knew he wouldn’t go anywhere.

* * *

“I kissed Jon,” Sansa said the next day in the car with Arya.

Arya was in the passenger seat, rifling through a magazine and sipping on her coffee. “So, that's where you were last night. How was it?”

It took a minute for Sansa to think over that thought, of how she could describe how she came to finally be ready to be in that moment. Maybe they should have talked about it sooner, _way_ sooner. Maybe they could have avoided the whole terrible loss of one another in their lives. But Sansa couldn’t change that, and she didn’t want to hold onto the what if’s of that situation.

“I was angry for so long,” she finally said. “I’m still kinda angry, I guess, but I’m trying to let it go.”

Arya nodded, but then she turned with a jovial face and batted her eyelashes. “Cool, but was he, like, just the totally _best_ kisser in the whole dang world? Did you feel butterflies?”

“Oh my god, fuck _off_ ,” Sansa replied. She laughed, watching Arya smile widely back.

“I’m happy you guys are happy,” Arya said. “I mean, you’re definitely just trying to steal _my_ spotlight cause Gendry and I just got together, but whatever we’ve shared the stage this long I guess I can get over it.”

“You could always just murder me,” Sansa said.

“I would _never_ .” Arya reached a hand out the window, letting it glide over the wind. “We only murder _together._ Slasher Sisters for life.”

Sansa watched her sister, the way she fit into the world just as herself, enjoying the open road beside her. That pool of emotion felt like it might overflow as she felt that pulse of affection trying to break free. They would never agree on everything, or be the same person, but they didn’t need to be. They were sisters. They took on the world together.

* * *

Theon handed her a bottle of water before they started soundcheck, pausing afterward and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Do I get my bed back tonight?”

Sansa flushed. “So, you did see that.”

He nodded. “I don’t mind. Are you good, though?”

“I’m good,” she said with a nod, smiling back at him. “It’s all going to be good, I think. You know, when this is over, you should come back to Winterfell. I think Bran and Rickon would like to see you.”

“Really?” he asked. He seemed so genuinely shocked by that.

“Really,” she confirmed.

Sansa wondered if Robb were here if he would have ever grown to forgive Theon, or if they were simply going to be broken still. He wasn’t there, though, and Sansa was only left with the pieces of her life before and what _she_ wanted to do with them. It wasn’t her job to fix them all, but she did want to hold them together.

“It would be nice to go back,” he said. “I think Yara can handle Pyke without me for a bit longer. It’s not summer season, yet.”

“Better than the, what was it you called it? Whole lot of bumfuck of nothing?” Sansa laughed.

“That about sums it up.” He tapped the stage before shaking his head, turning back to his work as he let out a few more laughs under his breath.

Arya started playing the drums behind her, and Sansa picked up her guitar. They practiced their songs, the music flowing past, and Sansa watched the crowd of their crew, their family. You could find happiness in the oddest of places, she thought.

* * *

“I have to get sleep,” Sansa said, resting her back against the wall by her room door.

“I know,” Jon agreed, but he dipped forward. “Just one more.”

They kissed for a moment, it feeling slow and sweet and sort of intoxicating.

Sansa sighed. “We’re sickening.”

“I don’t care.” He kissed her into the side of the building, made her feel like she could float away. Yet, she was firmly planted.

“We have an early morning,” she said after breaking apart just to move forward and kiss him again.

“It’s almost like you don’t want me to stay,” he said. He nuzzled into her neck, placing a kiss there, and his facial hair tickled the soft skin.

“You’re right. Never leave,” she said, reaching her arms around his neck and bringing their lips back together.

He reached down to her hips, held her tight, the two of them unable to break apart.

“It is kinda sickening,” he joked when he took a breath.

Sansa smiled. “I don’t care, either.”

* * *

“How are we all doing tonight?” Sansa asked, and the crowd cheered back in response. Arya hit the drums behind her, accenting the question. It seemed to make the audience’s energy skyrocket.

“We’re Stark, made up of the two Stark sisters. We really just started making music because we wanted to tell stories. Well, and we love music.” Sansa twisted slightly, trying to catch Arya in her peripheral. “Does that sound about right, Arya?”

“I couldn’t have said it better.” She hit the drums again as she smiled, the audience whooping and hollering back.

“Wow, you guys have a great energy. We love that.” Sansa began strumming the chords to their opening song. “Tonight we’re gonna start with something I think you all might know. Something from our newest EP.”

As Conversations With a Ghost started playing, and Sansa started singing, she could feel the whole audience moving with her. She could feel Arya behind her, starting slow but finding the beat for them. Somewhere, in that mass of people, was Theon and Meera and Gendry and _Jon._ They were all out there, doing this with them.

For a moment, as her eyes trailed the crowd, she could have almost swore she saw a flash of Robb. His styled hair and twisting smile. It was definitely her eyes, not a truth, but in her heart she felt it. If he was out there somewhere, living, breathing, she hoped he was happy. She wanted that for him.

She missed him. She wanted him back, but she could _live_ now. There was nothing like the feel of her and Arya playing music. There was nothing like the feeling of Jon’s arms around her. Their family was piecing itself together bit by bit.

They kept finding their home, as mismatched and difficult as it was. Their constellation blinked a little brighter these days.

The song finished to cheers and claps. Sansa spared another look back to Arya, sharing a wide smile that was just for them. Then she turned back forward, straightened her guitar, and stepped a little more fully into the spotlight.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at: [anniebibananie](http://anniebibananie.tumblr.com/)


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